Hour 1 of spring break vacation: I spot Sean Penn at our American Airlines gate. Surreal coincidence – the very night before, we watched his movie “Into the Wild.” I seize this excuse to march over and share our rave reviews. “Thank you,” he croaks – looking as though his next words might be, “Now scram.”

Hour 4: My husband mopes at the Hertz desk upon realizing that our designated car is a Sienna – same boring van we tolerate when not on vacation. Mike fails to appreciate my two bits about rip-off third-party “discount” Web sites that don’t allow flexibility. Insult to injury, our rental dons California plates – in TEXAS!

Hour 5 (midnight): My sister and her hubby serve up martinis and wine.

And more martinis and more wine. Erin and Matt happily attach themselves to their adored and adorable cousin, Alex, a cool college coed.

Draped with Spanish moss, tall trees mystically poke through the water’s mirrored surface. We see gators!

Hour 46: After waltzing through a plantation, we check into our French Quarter hotel. Hush my mouth about Mike’s Web site surfing. Quite surprisingly, we are staying in a plush $400-a-night suite – for one-fourth that price. Grilled oysters, a stroll down Bourbon Street and a peaceful night’s sleep follow.

Hours 63 to 73: Cafe du Monde, the flea market, St. Louis Cathedral. New Orleans can feel like Paris, but without all the museums. So what do you do with your time? You listen to a free jazz concert, that’s what. And eat a fabulous dinner at K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen. (Unbeknownst to us, famed chef Paul Prudhomme was grazed by a stray bullet at an outdoor charity event just that morning, and kept right on cooking.)

Hour 86: We meet up with my cousin Adam’s spunky wife, Cheri, at their cute “uptown” home. Cheri gives us a tour of Katrina damage – so close yet so far away from the tony neighborhoods scarcely impacted. Erin puzzles over ramshackle houses still bearing spray-painted memos – most cryptic but some straightforward, such as, “11<MD+,%30,%55,%70>1/<MD-,%0,%55,%70>2 dogs rescued.” We wonder how those dogs survived for two months. We also wonder what might become of this petrified devastation – so notorious and, simultaneously, so invisible.

Hour 89: Another celebrity sighting! Back in uptown, Erin recognizes Jessica Biel lunching at a table near ours. Weird. This time, I curb my stalker instincts. But Matt surreptitiously photographs her, thinking TMZ will pay big bucks for the image.

Hour 92: Adam comes home from work, then returns – to show us around stately Tulane University, where he teaches environmental law. That evening, we feast on Cheri’s massive pot of jambalaya.

Hour 110: Going with the flow through a tiny town near Galveston, oh Galveston, we hear a siren. A young policewoman writes up a speeding ticket – 45 in a 35, says she, adding that Mike’s court date is May 5. As though he’ll be there. I suffer a meltdown, accusing her of cynically targeting out-of-state license plates. My mortified kids envision me in handcuffs.

Hour 112: Beach boy Mike declares he could relax in Galveston, oh Galveston, for an entire week! Or maybe a weekend. We chill by the pool, especially whenever clouds block the sun.

Hour 138: Some 1,200 miles later, we’re back in Austin getting gussied up for the fancy debut of the Long Center – a performing arts auditorium my mother helped shepherd. She observes that we all “clean up well.” How did my goofy brothers score such gorgeous wives?

Hour 166: The middle-aged youngsters (meaning, everyone but Mom) return to the Long Center for an unforgettable Lyle Lovett/Willie Nelson/Asleep at the Wheel concert. My Lyle crush reignites.

Hour 177: We’d gladly hang around a spell longer, if not for our mutts. And school. And jobs. And the fact we’re recycling dank clothes. So go, we must.

After majoring in journalism at the University of Texas, Susan Christian Goulding got her start as a copy editor and reporter at the (late, great) Los Angeles Herald Examiner. She then worked at the (late, great) Santa Monica Outlook and the Daily Breeze as a features editor, writer and columnist. She moved to the Orange County bureau of the Los Angeles Times as a features and business writer. After that five-year stint, she worked as a correspondent for People magazine and a regular freelancer for Readers Digest while raising her two kids, Erin and Matt. During this time, she also wrote a weekly column for the Daily Breeze. Next, she gave up all possibility of free time and earned a teaching credential and masters at UCI. She taught English for four often rewarding and always challenging years in Compton, then at LMU and El Camino College. Missing journalism, Goulding circled back to her original career last year, joining the Orange County Register as a reporter. She also enjoys her return to column writing for the newspaper's OC Home magazine.